


Intoxicated

by servilesammy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood Drinking, Blow Jobs, Demon Blood, Demon Blood Addict Sam Winchester, Demon Blood Addiction, Demon Dean Winchester, Dominant Dean Winchester, Dubious Consent, First Time, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sam Winchester on Demon Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 14:52:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15317907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servilesammy/pseuds/servilesammy
Summary: "Hiya, Sammy," Dean says, a wicked echo of a greeting he'd heard a million times before. Sam peers up at him, recognizing his brother and wondering for just a moment if maybe he was mistaken, maybe it was a nightmare or he was brainwashed or something, before Dean's eyes flick black, devoid, demonic. Dean's right hand grips his jaw and jerks his head forward, squeezing painfully until Sam's mouth opens and then he's there, blood spilling onto Sam's tongue and it's so good.





	Intoxicated

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @ servilesammy

Sam Winchester rises to consciousness to find himself lazing across his brother's lap, slouched with his head resting on Dean's chest. One long leg is draped over the armrest of their antique leather club chair and the other is dangling between his brother's. He's not really sure how he got here, he can't quite remember the series of events that lead him to awaken in such an... intimate position with Dean. Anxiety flares in his chest when a smattering of memories come to the forefront of his brain: a strobing red light, his skin breaking, the bunker's dungeon's chains around his wrists and Dean's shadowed silhouette holding a hammer. His breath begins to quicken, heart seizing as he fights to understand the onslaught of detached memories and the accompanying mental imagery. He stirs, chest heaving and eyes stinging, and Dean shifts in response. He places some book he was reading on the side table and his arms come to lock around Sam's chest, fingers splaying, crushing Sam against his older brother and eliminating his chances of escape.

"Hiya, Sammy," Dean says, a wicked echo of a greeting he'd heard a million times before. Sam peers up at him, recognizing his brother and wondering for just a moment if maybe he was mistaken, maybe it was a nightmare or he was brainwashed or something, before Dean's eyes flick black, devoid, demonic. Sam thrashes against the other Winchester's hold and it's strong, stronger than Dean ever was before, and then Dean's moving again, still keeping him hostage but producing a knife that stills Sam. He breathes in panicked puffs and his eyes follow the blade's course, wondering if his brother was going to kill him, wondering if, even if he somehow got hold of the knife, he'd have the power to kill his brother. Instead of slashing his throat, however, the blade makes a gash on Dean's left forearm that immediately wells up and spills over with ruby-red blood, and Sam's breath stops. He's pushing himself away, back into Dean who throws the knife aside, wherever he can to escape the blood and the hunger, the desire that is unleashed inside him.

"Dean, no, please," Sam begs, wrecked already.

"Ah, come on Sammy," Dean taunts, "you'll drink from that bitch but not your own brother?" Sam whines, nowhere left to run, ducking his head to the side when Dean brings the cut to his face. Dean's right hand grips his jaw and jerks his head forward, squeezing painfully until Sam's mouth opens and then he's there, blood spilling onto Sam's tongue and it's so good. He resists for a moment, trying futilely to pull away and spit it out, but he's helpless against his addiction. And that's all it takes, just a single humiliating moment before Sam's giving in and sucking on the cut, his hands rising and gripping, trying to keep Dean pressed to his lips. Dean lets go of his little brother's face and slides his fingers over Sam's throat, teasing his pulse point before dropping to a nipple and tweaking it. Sam's mind is nearly blank, tongue swiping over the cut and seeking out more blood, but he still registers the wrongness of Dean's caress. He draws back from it, but can't stop himself from moaning in pleasure when Dean's hand follows the movement and does it again and again.

He doesn't relent until Sam is whimpering, oversensitive and twisting away, telltale stain of precum blossoming on his jeans. Dean shifts lower then, fingertips gliding down Sam's torso and tucking themselves in his waistband. At the same time that Dean grasps his brother's hard-on, he leans over Sam and bites down on the delicate skin where his neck meets his shoulder, working it over with his tongue and slowly jerking the dick in his hand. He squeezes harder at the tip, biting and sucking a trail of steadily purpling marks up Sam's neck, finally landing on the other's earlobe when Sam comes with groan against Dean's arm. Dean extricates his hand from the messy boxers, holding it to Sam's mouth in place of the nearly healed, barely bleeding cut and sighing in satisfaction when he feels his brother's tongue cleaning him off.

To his credit, Sam noticed the switch in substances but couldn't find it in himself to care, mind foggy but sated from the demon blood and post-coital bliss. He doesn't object when he's being pushing down to the floor on his knees between Dean's feet, or when Dean grabs him by the hair on the back of his head and drags his mouth over his clothed erection. Dean's undoing the button on his jeans then, followed by the zipper, pulling his dick out without even pushing his pants down. He pulls Sam, blank-eyed, back to him with the grip on his hair and rubs the tip against his bottom lip, smearing precum across it. He smirks down at his little brother, so pretty with traces of Dean's blood and precum on his lips, settled between his knees and looking up at him with his empty little doe-eyes, free for the taking.

Dean drags Sam's willing, or rather unresisting, mouth onto his dick, groaning contentedly when he's fully sheathed inside the wet heat. He pushes Sam's head down further yet, bumping into his throat and grinning when he hears Sam gag. He fucks him like that for a bit, tugging his head up and down on his dick, before he takes Sam by both hands and fucks up into his mouth, inserting himself in the younger's gasping throat with every thrust. He comes on Sam's tongue with a groaned "Sammy," pulling his brother off and tucking himself back in his jeans. He regards Sam-- with his chest heaving, his eyes wet and blinking but still vaguely absent, he looks wrecked and ungodly beautiful. Dean pats his cheek once, twice, and leans back in his chair, picking up his book and leaving his Sammy to tuck himself against Dean's legs, dependent for his next hit.


End file.
